Baby It's Cold Outside
by astareltheweeper
Summary: A Christmas powercut leads to an unforseen set of circumstances... SJ but angsty.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** (blinks and looks around) Ok, so it's been a _while_ since I've been here... turns out that college is a lot more distracting than I initially anticipated! Despite valiant attempts to thwart my use of ANY symbols, and Microsoft Word rebelling against me, I have managed to post this on Christmas Eve! (victory dance) This isn't really your average Christmas fic; no long lost family are discovered, Jack doesn't propose and Sam does not discover she's pregnant with twins... although there is snow! But rest assured there is Sam/Jack! However my fic is a strictly mistletoe free zone :p I pondered for ages, since I really didn't know myself until almost the end, but I'm going to stick this somewhere on the timeline of season 3. Ish. More ramblings at the end...

Characters thoughts are usually related between ' ' these little thingies, but sometimes just in narrator style.

The borders are initially to differentiate between Sam's POV and Jack's POV, but once I got them in the same place I kind of abandoned that, so you'll have to keep up... hopefully it's not too confusing.

Oh, and I currently have no beta, since I haven't written in just about forever, so I humbly beg your forgiveness if there are any typos. Just don't send me to Ba'al...

**Disclaimer:** If I had any money, or in fact a life, would I be writing this on Christmas Eve? So sue away but all you'll get are some midwifery textbooks and my fluffy cow slippers... I promise to play nicely with the characters; I'll feed 'em and hug 'em and love 'em and put them nicely back in the box when I'm done. They need to be in good condition for the shippy scenes that I just _know_ you're planning for the movies ;)

* * *

Sam downed her second beer in as many hours. Just why on Earth she was sitting here at 1013 on Christmas Eve was beyond her. This was pathetic. Looking around her, she saw several small pockets of mirth scattered about the room; people getting warmed up before midnight mass perhaps. The pub, which she had never actually been to before, was being exceptionally festive; decked out in holly and garlands, with a complementary dish of mince pies on each table, and several lining the bar itself. 

These had all, naturally, been pillaged by this point; with only a desolate holly sprig now adorning each plate. Sam looked wistfully at her own dish; pies still arranged perfectly, with the light dusting of icing sugar undisturbed. She reached out a hand, half thinking of having one, but withdrew it again. Closing her eyes for a moment, she lowered her head and thought how foolish she must look. Here, drinking alone on Christmas Eve. She squeezed her eyes shut, to strangle the tears that threatened and her mouth drew itself into a thin line of frustration. Snatching up her jacket, she left with remarkable haste, causing a flurry of cold air and snow to enter the cosy pub and several pairs of eyes to be raised momentarily from their glasses.

Outside it was bitterly cold. Colorado Springs looked ridiculously akin to a Christmas card; a layer of snow covering every building, car and fence as far as the eye could see. A blizzard was threatening. Having dropped her bike at the garage earlier, since it had finally broken in a way that she couldn't fix; Sam was faced with the options of either walking or calling a cab. To the logical mind, it was easy to see which one she should choose, but Sam was having a bad day and was in no mood to make conversation with a cabbie, even for the 10 measly minutes it would take to get to her house. Nor did she feel like enduring an equally long journey spent in an awkward silence. Against all reason, she shrugged on her leather jacket and headed away from the warm glow of the pub windows on foot. In the growing storm, it would take at least 45 minutes to reach her house. Suddenly wishing for a scarf, Sam ducked her head as far into the collar of her jacket as she could manage.

Just how she had reached this point; ankle deep in snow, which was rapidly soaking her jeans, walking home in a storm on Christmas Eve, alone and bikeless of all things, was a long and winding path. Plus she was nowhere near as drunk as she wanted to be. Heck, she wasn't even tipsy. Actually, it all rather began and ended with the bike.

Learning to ride it had been her form of rebellion, tame as it was. She would never forget the look on Jacob's face when he arrived home from active duty to find her putting the finishing touches to the new engine. She could still see him silhouetted against the doorway of the garage in full military uniform, cover in hand. She had paused in her work, knowing he was there. He stood for a full minute, holding her gaze as she stared defiantly back, then saying nothing, promptly left and walked into the house. When she entered the kitchen a few minutes later, wiping her hands on a greasy cloth, with a smudge of oil on her cheek and her long hair sticking out of its ponytail at various odd angles, he paused in his hushed conversation with Mark and looked at his 19 year old daughter disdainfully.

Sam decided to be so good to herself as to not relive the ensuing argument, which mostly related to the dangers of such a mode of transport, not to mention the impression it gave. She had cried then, and she was determined not to allow herself to cry now. It had been several months since she had last seen her father walk through the Stargate. His new life as a Tok'ra host had only just begun, and while their relationship had been salvaged, it was nowhere near being repaired. She was normally on excellent terms with Mark, but when she had missed her niece's graduation from kindergarten and her nephew's christening all within 6 months, with only 'Deep Space Radar Telemetry' as an excuse, their relationship had become a little icy. Which brought her back to the whole being alone on Christmas issue...

By now Sam was on a dimly lit street, which actually wasn't far from Colonel O'Neill's if she thought about it... Some of the windows she passed had Christmas trees, most were dark. Families; exhausted by the holiday preparations and getting some rest before the inevitable 4am start tomorrow.

Sam was beginning to feel guilty for indulging in her misery. She could be doing so many abundantly productive things right now; goodness only knew how many things there were in her lab waiting to be seen to. Normally she would take her bike out and just ride wherever, until she worked it out of her system. But now even that had been taken from her.

* * *

Jack was enjoying a bottle of beer and a thoroughly unfestive Halloween episode of the Simpsons when the power went. The storm had been growing all evening, the wind piling snow against the east side of his house. He stubbed his toe on several items and whacked his head soundly on a kitchen cupboard before finding a flashlight in one of the drawers. His muttered expletive faded into the darkness. So much for his Black Ops training... His house seemed much bigger in the dark... why had he never noticed that before? 

Making his way to the fuse box, just to be sure, he checked that all was well. Looking out the window, he could see neighbouring houses shrouded in the same inky blackness as his own. 'Damn,' he thought, 'whole grid must be down.' Several minutes and a warm overcoat and hat later, he knocked on the door of the neat little bungalow across the street. He was greeted by a balding old man in a flannel shirt, also bearing a flashlight.

"Jack!"

"Hey Eli, you guys lost power too?"

"Always something to make it the perfect Christmas, eh?"

The older man smilingly ushered him into the living room, where a warm fire was burning in the grate. Jack swore to himself inwardly as he realised he would have to go to the bother of lighting one when he went back home.

"Hello Jack!"

An old woman greeted him from a chair close to the fire, where she was nestled underneath what must have been at least 3 rugs. Jack leaned close to her to respond, as she was going a little deaf.

"How are you Gwen?"

"Cold!"

She grinned up at him. Age would never affect her sense of humour at any rate... Jack smiled back warmly.

"I hate to ask Eli, but I was wondering if you still had any of those oil lamps? Burning my house down with candles would be the proverbial cherry on top of a power cut, don't you think?"

"And I thought you came to bring us cookies!"

Eli exchanged a cheeky grin with his wife and shuffled off down the hall to look for some.

Gwen shooed Jack closer to the fire, and he instantly felt guilty that he had nothing to offer the old couple. He opened his mouth to make small talk about Gwen and Eli's son and grandkids, but seeing the drawn and worried look on Gwen's face as she stared into the fire, he realised that Nate and his family must have been on their way up when the storm blew in. He hoped to God that they were ok. Damn unpredictable weather.

"So, we're going to be roasting over an open fire tomorrow."

Gwen winked at Jack.

"I might just dust off that camping stove of mine and fire it up!"

Jack wasn't sure whether he'd actually bother eating anything other than sandwiches tomorrow, but it was a fun idea. He groaned loudly, and got a questioning look from Gwen.

"Just thinking about all the stuff I had in the fridge... Still, I suppose I could just chuck it outside, right?"

Gwen smiled and they returned to a relaxed silence, interrupted by a crash from the kitchen. Gwen rolled her eyes at Jack as he jumped to his feet and went to see if Eli had had a similar disagreement with his cupboard door. Jack's head still throbbed from that encounter.

Having found Eli no worse for the wear, and bearing 3 oil lamps, Jack left the house several minutes later, bidding the couple a Merry Christmas and inwardly wishing with all his might that their son would have arrived safely by tomorrow.

* * *

Sam stopped in her tracks when the streetlights all went out. It took her eyes several minutes to adjust to the dark, and whether it was all in her head or because she had stopped moving, she suddenly felt ten times colder than before. 

"Great!" she said to the empty street.

Bracing herself, she took the next left. She figured, or rather hoped, it was a shortcut. She also knew that it was Colonel O'Neill's street. She hurried along at a steady pace, walking deliberately on the opposite side of the street and hoping that he wouldn't coincidentally look out his window while she was passing. She didn't want her CO to see her in what was quite possibly the most stupid situation she had ever gotten herself into. So focused was she on his dark and quiet house that she didn't notice the man walking out of the gateway just in front of her, and she barrelled right into him at a considerable speed.

Their bodies met with the loud clanging of brass as the lamps clattered together in Jack's arms. Jack was so busy thanking his lucky stars that he hadn't dropped what he was fairly sure were family heirlooms and ensuring that he had a firm grip on them that it took him several seconds to recognise the startled and apologetic woman next to him.

"I'm so sorry, are you... Sir?"

"Carter?"

Jack's voice was incredulous. He couldn't even begin to dream up a reason for encountering his 2IC on his street, in what was shaping up to be a blizzard, on Christmas Eve. He looked her up and down for a moment in disbelief and she reddened under his gaze, wondering how on earth she was going to answer whatever question he was about to pose. Much to her surprise, he merely turned on his heel and crossed the road.

"C'mon Carter. It's freezing out here."

Years of habit caused her feet to follow his command, and before she even had time to think about it she was standing in his house as he wrestled the front door shut against the growing wind.

"Who'd have thought it could actually get worse out there?"

Sam didn't know what to say for herself, so she followed him mutely into the living room, where he dumped the lamps on the table, or at least where he hoped the table was. He got lucky. Striking a match, he lit one and then turned to face her. Dwarfed by the eerie shadows that the lamp couldn't manage to keep at bay, and clearly shivering, Jack took in the sight of his second in command and felt something akin to a protective instinct. It was the most vulnerable he had ever seen her look, and near death experiences were a daily routine for them.

"What the hell are you doing out here Carter?"

Sam had known the question would be coming, and yet she still had no response.

"My bike broke down..." she tried. Well, it was true...

"Is that all you're wearing?" he gestured at her polo neck, leather jacket and jeans soaked to the knee by melting snow. Reddening a little, although it was imperceptible in the dark, when he realised just how that sounded, he changed tact, barking orders in a gruff voice.

"Just help me get a fire started will ya?"

Sam was happy to comply, if it meant no more awkward questions, although some part of her mind was wondering just how she was going to get out of here tonight. After several minutes of shifting logs and fiddling with matches and newspaper, it dawned on her that she probably wouldn't. No one in their right mind would want to drive out in this, and she would feel guilty even asking for a lift home. The prospect of having to stay the night with her CO terrified her enough to make a walk home sound welcoming.

The power had only been gone for about 20 minutes, and the house hadn't yet lost any of its heat, but Jack knew it wouldn't be long before it turned into an ice box. As he piled some extra logs on the fire, he stole a glance at Sam, who was staring pensively into the flames with a log poised in her hand. Without asking, he knew that she wasn't herself. For starters she was uncharacteristically quiet; he had expected her to be taking a mile a minute about what she suspected to be wrong with her bike, and somehow managing to confuse him at the same time, even though he knew his way around an engine fairly well. She radiated unease and unhappiness. Jack didn't want to pry... the idea of unearthing any one of a number of potentially horrific reasons as to why Christmas made Carter miserable, at least he assumed it was Christmas since no one gets that upset over mechanical failure, didn't thrill him. Hell, this could even have been the time of year when her mom died. However a potentially awkward situation was presenting itself... Jack decided he'd best get it out in the open at any rate. Their eyes met after a few minutes of silence.

"So, guess you got lucky cause you're stuck here for a while."

Not exactly proud of how he'd worded that, Jack attempted a lopsided grin anyway. Sam only smiled politely, clearly as uncomfortable as he was. Jack tried to shake it off; they had shared a tent dozens of times offworld for cryin' out loud! But somehow, looking at Sam in her civvies, he found it hard to convince himself that it was quite the same. Her wet civvies...

"Damnit Carter, look at you... I'll get you something."

Sam flinched slightly, looking as though she had been lost in her own thoughts again. Jack grabbed the only lamp that had been lit, twiddled with it until the flame became as bright as possible, and went to scout for supplies.

Sam tried to make herself useful by lighting the other two lamps. She wasn't sure what else to do. She hadn't been to the Colonel's house very often before, and certainly didn't feel comfortable enough to start touching anything, although she felt it would be practical to move some furniture closer to the fireplace. Suddenly realising just how cold she was, she shivered violently and stepped closer to the warm flames. She mentally kicked herself a good half dozen times before resigning herself to the fact that she was going to be there for the night. Before she could guilt trip herself to death however, Jack returned, dragging a stuffed sleeping bag behind him.

Sam smiled to herself, the tiniest of smiles, and the first one that day. Ever the military man, Jack had crammed everything necessary into the sleeping bag and used it as a modified sled, instead of making several trips with stuff in his arms like a regular person would.

He thrust a pair of sweatpants and several large sweaters into her arms.

"I advise you change pronto, before the bathroom reaches absolute zero."

Sam regarded the clothes in her arms uncertainly, suddenly feeling as though she had been presumptuous, although she had never intended to end up in this situation.

"Sir, are you sure..."

"Scoot Carter."

Jack gestured down the hallway with his thumb.

"Third door on the left."

He handed her the lamp and busied himself with the sleeping bag. She hesitated only a moment longer, before obeying his order.

As he laid out the various blankets, rugs and sleeping bags that he had salvaged from his room and various cupboards, it finally dawned on Jack that Carter was spending the night in his living room. What kind of twisted Christmas present was that? Recalling that the last time he had spoken to God was just a few minutes ago, regarding Nate, Jack wondered why she, and he believed it was a she since only a woman could orchestrate his life with such a wicked sense of irony, had given him this as a... what, reward? Ugh... Not that he didn't like Carter... oh he _liked_ Carter, that was the problem! He should have been able to nip this 'thing' in the bud, but that woman just got under his skin somehow. It freaked him out...

Having changed with Olympic speed in a rapidly cooling bathroom, Sam looked fearfully into the mirror. Firstly, she concluded that flickering lamplight was not a good look for her. Her face felt about three times its regular size, now that she was getting some feeling back. What meagre amount of eyeliner she had been wearing was halfway down her left cheek in a perfect teardrop shape. She scrubbed it off angrily. If there was one thing she was going to manage in this hellish day, it was not to cry in front of her CO. She did her best to dry her snow soaked hair on a towel and struggled into the second of the three sweaters he had given her. Obviously it was going to get cold... great... as long as they didn't end up having to conserve heat Antarctica style... Trying her best to shake that notion out of her head, Sam braced herself and went back down to the living room, leaving her clothes in the bathroom since she had no idea what else to do with them.

Jack appraised her appearance when she returned.

"Much better. Honest to God Carter, if you manage not to get sick after this..."

"I'll be fine, sir." Sam eagerly interjected, desperate to change the topic.

"Well, we'll both have to bunk down here tonight, since it's the only room with a fireplace. There's plenty of wood..." Sam noticed the snow in his hair, betraying the brief trip he had made to the woodpile in her absence. "You can have the sofa there and that attractive looking pile of rugs on the floor is mine."

"I'm really sorry sir." She blurted out.

Jack looked her critically in the eye.

"I'm not going to ask Carter." There was a growing softness in his voice. "People find the holidays difficult for various reasons, and yours are none of my business."

There was a short pause.

"But for cryin' out loud, don't go looking for pneumonia next year!"

He was rewarded with a shamefaced grin, which lifted his spirits a little. Hopefully conversation wouldn't be as much like pulling teeth as it had been up to this point.

"Once this clears up, we'll go dig your bike out and I'll give you a ride home."

"Actually, it's at the repair shop."

Jack's perfect imitation of Teal'c's usual raised eyebrow would have made Sam laugh in any other situation. Wondering why the hell she had been walking all the way from the repair shop, which was a good 20 minutes away, Jack merely raised his hands in the air.

"Still not asking..."

Sam bit her bottom lip, and decided to think before speaking the next time.

His eyes lighting on his abandoned and only half finished bottle, Jack offered Sam a beer.

"No thanks."

"Something a little warmer?"

"I'm fine, really, thank you sir."

Sam was getting a little uncomfortable with all the attention.

"Look Carter, I know I'm your commanding officer, but you don't have to add sir to the end of _every_ sentence!"

"Sorry..."

They both smiled at the strained pause where "sir" would normally have been.

"Better."

Jack smiled. Sam relaxed marginally. Jack sipped his beer. Sam looked around the room.

"Some tv perhaps?"

Sam laughed a little this time. Her legs finally giving out on her, she perched at the end of the sofa. Jack, now finished with his beer, disposed of the bottle and relaxed on the sofa.

"So, did you make anything of that... doohickey we brought back from P3X... you know, the one with the trees?"

Sam's astonishment must have shown in her face, because he looked rather abashed.

"What?"

"Well sir... sorry... it's just that you never usually ask."

He merely looked interested, so she kept going.

"I'm not sure yet, but I think it may be an advanced force shield of some kind. It's definitely Ancient, so if we can figure it out, it would be an advantage over the Goa'uld."

"Portable too..." Jack offered, remembering the palm sized object they had brought back from their latest mission.

Sam nodded, barely able to believe her ears.

"It could be used on the field, if I can replicate it then every SG team could have one!"

"Think you can?"

"Once I figure out the mechanism, I can certainly try."

Jack nodded his approval, and looked at the fire for a while. This was harder than he thought. Geez, Carter had been his 2IC for nearly 3 years and they had always gotten along so well. Why the hell was it so hard to talk to her outside of work? Did they really have that little in common? It didn't help that she was distractingly beautiful in the firelight, and looked unusually small when shrouded in his huge academy sweaters. Seeing another side to his strong, confident, always in control Carter was both unnerving and enlightening. She slipped down onto the sofa next to him and he froze for a second as her arm brushed against his. His mind was crossing a line, the other side of which contained nothing but a court marshal.

Sam hadn't noticed his discomfort; she was too wrapped up in her own problems. Some of which were thoughts running in a similar vein to those of her CO.

After another sporadic attempt at small talk, logs were piled on the fire, a couch was pulled closer to the fireplace, yet more blankets were gathered from the guest rooms and three lamps were extinguished. T'was the night before Christmas... and damn was there an awkward silence.

THUMP

"Carter?"

"Sorry sir." Sam whispered hoarsely.

* * *

Sooooo... watcha think? ;) I assure you, my pathetic attempt at a 'cliffhanger' is entirely for my own benefit; it'll kick me into writing the next chapter. Any thoughts, comments and most of all, suggestions are more than welcome:) Even if you think I should scrap this while I'm ahead and go hide under my Christmas tree... I wouldn't really mind; my season 7 DVDs are there somewhere! ;) This isn't exactly (gasp!) my life's work or anything, it was just something fun to write in the early hours of Christmas Eve, when I was really considering a bitter satire of Christmasfic, so if it amuses someone at least, then my work here is done:p 

Happy non denominational Winter holiday to you all:) Eat lots of cookies and blue jello!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This chapter took... a lot more thought and work than I expected. It seems my muse got ideas of its own, and decided to take the story in a different direction. I know I'm going out on a limb a little, and I have no beta to run this by, so I'm depending on you all to be honest with me about this chapter. Please do tell me what you think. Do I need to cut/add/scrap it altogether? I'm hoping that it's in character; I've given it a great deal of thought. I know it gets darker and more angsty; perhaps that will be the general vein of the story. But it is my intent to veer in a more light hearted direction after this point. This chapter was necessary I feel, as I didn't want to ignore what I had begun to deal with...

Happy New Year to you all, and I do apologise for taking so long with this one. I started it a great many times and it never felt quite right until now... I hope that I have replied to every review I've received, thank you all so very much. To those who reviewed anonymously; thank you for leaving your opinion, I'm only sorry that I can't find you to follow it up!

* * *

Retrieving the book from the floor, Sam figured that her attempt at reading covertly could be pretty much pronounced a disaster. Although it was probably a good thing, since she could almost feel her eyes crossing as she tried to make out the small print in the flickering firelight.

Replacing it quietly on the table closest to her, Sam huddled down under her rugs and stared into the flames. She was starting to feel a chill creep into the air, and withdrew her feet from the pinching tendrils of cold that were crawling up her skin. She was way too tall for this sofa, and was curled in something resembling a fetal position just to stay warm. Her eyes unfocused slightly as she became lost in the depths of the fire now burning low in the hearth. It conjured so many memories of her past, each with a painful pang associated with some family member now gone from her life for whatever reason. Various Christmases, cookouts, campfires and nights spent under the stars at her uncle Irving's ranch for no other reason than it was summertime and her aunt and uncle gave Sam and Mark free reign of the place. Come to think of it, it had been her uncle Irv who encouraged her love of mechanics, and it was while helping to fix his beat up old truck for the hundredth time that she decided she wanted a bike of her own.

They had lost touch with her mom's side of the family after her death, due to disagreements of various kinds between her father and her mother's siblings. Sam didn't like that, now that she thought about it, and when she next had time she decided she'd like to drive up and see uncle Irv and aunt Kate. They lived in Colorado... somewhere...

Jack's thoughts didn't flow as freely... to him it felt hideously stereotypical to be so depressed at Christmas, but he couldn't help it. Every day of the year hurt, but this one managed to do so just that little bit more. But he wouldn't allow himself to go there, to mourn Charlie anew each time. Whenever Charlie's face, or a thousand times worse, the sight of Charlie's body as they had found it that day, rose in his mind, he pushed it back down quickly. Sara's screams only rang in his ears for a second or two, before they were plunged back into the dark recesses of his heart. He had relived those moments every day of his life for over a year; he could do so every day until he died. That's what he was afraid of... he didn't know how to let it go, he couldn't deal with it, so he pushed it aside as much as possible.

Almost as bad, and equally as intense, was his awareness of her proximity to him. SG-1 had been the first thing to make him feel alive since Charlie's death. The work, he could lose himself in that. But Carter... she had unwittingly started to wear away at the only part of him which still remained numb and closely guarded. Ever since all bridges had been burned between himself and Sara, he had denied to himself that that part of his heart even existed. She had taken it with her, he preferred to believe. Just how Carter had worked her way in there, he didn't even know. It had been far too late by the time he realised... and now she was laying less than a metre away from him. For starters, it scared him. She was everything soft and warm and, dare he say it, young. She was life and he was misery and decay. Or so he felt, at any rate. He couldn't deserve her, couldn't drag her down with him since it seemed she was already on the way to a broken heart anyway. He knew he could never make that better, and was only likely to make it worse. All this without even thinking of the frat regs... so it was best not to think of how she looked at him sometimes...

A log shifted in the fire, sending a fine shower of sparks onto the hearth and causing Sam to drift back to reality. A second later, Jack swore and swatted at his arm. Sam tried to suppress a smile.

"I hope you're not smirking at my suffering, Major."

Sam's surprised blue eyes crashed into Jack's browns, which were slightly crinkled at the edges in a way that told her he was teasing. Although she could have sworn he had been sleeping with his back to her. If he had been sleeping at all...

"This seasonal insomnia's a killer... wanna game of... something?"

Jack almost surprised himself at the normality in his voice. Then again, he specialised in being a closed book, and Carter was certainly not the one to voice his current problems too. Sam hesitated; if it was going to be anything as awkward as their earlier conversation, she'd settle for silence and fire-staring thank you very much...

"Unless you were sleeping that is?"

Ok, he was on to her.

"Sure. You have a chessboard?"

Sam was smiling one of those enthusiastic smiles that made Jack wish he'd learned chess at some point in his damned life. How the hell could you get to... well, his age... and not know how to play chess? It was bad enough that he couldn't sleep when she was in the same room... What did this woman do to him for goodness sake?

Realising that his stare looked rather accusatory, and Sam was looking curiously at him, Jack got to his feet, swore at the cold, and lunged for the shelf in the corner where his dusty stack of... anything that involved two people... lived.

At least he didn't injure himself on anything this time.

Sam slipped gently to the floor, wrapping herself in several rugs and shifting as close to the fire as she could manage. Jack pretended not to notice the chessboard and pieces so prominently displayed on his shelf, originally intended to motivate him to learn by staring him in the face each time he walked by, and returned with a checker board instead.

"Close enough?" he smiled as he sat down, throwing a log on the fire.

* * *

Two games later and it was an even draw of one each. Sam was miles in the lead this time around however, having taken several of Jack's pieces in an early move. Jack noticed that she never bit her lip, or fidgeted with her hair when she was concentrating. No, Samantha Carter stared at her goal so intently that he was surprised it didn't wither under her gaze. She must have been mean in staring competitions as a kid. Those baby blues could radiate some intensity when they wanted to. They had shot angry sparks in Jack's direction more than once in the past 3 years, that was for sure. Although the change in her demeanour didn't go unnoticed, and Jack wondered at how she could go from being clearly upset to intently focused. Women were good at that, he decided. But that was unfair; Carter wasn't 'women'. She was... Carter. She deserved her own world-saving, Goa'uld-ass-kicking, doohickey-decoding category. He figured that she had a habit of losing herself in work/planet saving/board games when stuff bothered her. But he still wasn't going to ask. Jack was aware of his capabilities and lack thereof... and anything involving...well, let's face it; words... was definitely filed under 'lack thereof'.

"King me!" she smiled at him triumphantly, with a childlike gleam in her eye.

Suddenly, a worried frown creased Jack's face and his hand paused over the game as he focused on a spot in the corner of the room where the flickering of the firelight failed to chase the shadows away.

"Carter, what's that?"

Snapping into military mode, Sam jumped up to look. Staring for a moment, and seeing nothing, she looked at him inquisitively.

"What sir?"

"Oh, I guess these old eyes are playing tricks."

She looked at him suspiciously as she sat back down, but it took her several seconds to notice that her newly acquired king and two other pieces were missing from the board.

"Sir!"

Jack knew instantly that he had been over ambitious... perhaps if he had just taken one, she wouldn't have noticed. Nah, he was kidding himself.

"What?"

"I can't believe I fell for that..."

Jack continued to feign innocence.

"C'mon sir, I can't finish the game without my pieces..."

"Aha, so you forfeit?" Jack grinned triumphantly.

"No!"

Sam's indignant cry coincided with the first chime of midnight on the clock in the hall.

"Call it a draw then?"

"I had no idea you were so afraid of losing, Colonel."

She was definitely baiting him. Jack had never known Carter to be so competitive.

"That's not gonna work Major. Now if you refuse to finish the game, I have no choice but to accept victory."

He made his next move and sat awaiting her decision. There they were; the sparks. But not angry this time, just determined. She was gonna beat him with just four pieces and he knew it. The clock finished chiming. Sam made her next move.

She had him beat before it chimed a quarter past, the game culminating in a chase around the board with the only two remaining pieces. Jack discovered a new facet of her personality; Smug!Carter. She never got cocky about blowing up a sun, but boy did she get a kick out of beating a cheater at checkers. Her hair was tousled from sleeping, or at least attempting to, on the sofa, that billion watt smile lit up her face and her eyes sparkled with delight. It was bizarre, but contrary to all the thoughts that had been previously running through his head about her, in that moment she reminded him of Charlie beaming with pride when he wrestled his dad to the ground with his new Power Ranger one Christmas morning.

"Is this how you imagined it?"

The words left his mouth before he even thought them through fully. Not that _that_ wasn't an everyday occurrence for him; but it didn't usually provoke the response he was now getting from his 2IC. The tenderness in his voice and the faraway look in his eyes quieted Sam's momentary jubilance.

"Imagined what?" she asked gently, sensing that, as usual, her CO had managed to voice a thought that related nothing to any current situation, but evidently one that gave him sadness.

"Christmas." Hell, he might as well finish it now.

The silence returned as Sam looked thoughtfully at the tassel of the rug that she was slowly turning over and over in her hand, and Jack decided that the situation really had gone to hell in a handbasket once and for all. The frankness with which she responded took him completely aback.

"I'd be lying if I said yes. I guess I'd always imagined, or maybe hoped, that by now I wouldn't be spending my Christmases alone... present company excepted. Not that I expected to be here... but was that what you were asking?"

Sam trailed off uncertainly, realising that she had perhaps said too much. Heart to hearts were generally a thing reserved for Janet or Daniel, and whether or not she had intended to say quite so much, she couldn't really decide.

Jack didn't know what he had initially meant either. This Christmas? Any Christmas?

"I guess... Christmas just feels different, after... y'know..."

Jack looked around helplessly for anything in the room that might possibly offer a different topic of conversation. He never talked about this, why was he talking about this? He could feel that ache that permanently inhabited the pit of his stomach stretching into a yawning gap of loneliness as memories of the precious few Christmases he'd had with Charlie came crashing back.

Sam could only look at him helplessly, as she guessed what was going on in his mind. How stupid of her not to realise how hard Christmas must be for him; he'd lost so much more than she had.

The pain washed over Jack in a way that he rarely allowed it to; and when he did he was usually alone and very drunk. He felt like punching a wall, making the pain go away. Of course it never did go away. It ached inside of him constantly, taunting him with everything he'd lost, and everything he couldn't have. He could drink it into submission, but he didn't like to do that. In part, he was still punishing himself, but in part he knew that SG-1; its work and its members, were the closest to salvation he was ever going to get. He could exercise a measure of self control, and a descent into alcoholism would leave him with nothing but his own self pity. Jack wouldn't allow himself that indulgence. As long as he was left on this earth; he was going to be useful in some way or other. He wanted to scream at her to get out, to leave him alone with his misery and guilt, and stop parading in front of him something that he could never have again; love, a life, happiness... her. But when his eyes finally met Sam's and all he saw were twin pools of pain, a completely different part of him reacted.

In an instant, he had taken her face in his hands and he was kissing her.

And she was kissing him back.

And he could taste tears.

* * *

For a moment, their pain mingled and became something else; something equally consuming, equally powerful. But it couldn't make the pain go away. Only briefly did it burn brighter, then subsided, leaving them staring hungrily into each others eyes; breathlessly searching for a cure that neither could provide. Both knew how far they could carry this moment, how far they wanted to, but also that it wouldn't give them what they were looking for. It would merely be a band aid on a gaping wound. Two broken people wouldn't make a whole one.

Never looking away from her, Jack gathered Sam into his arms, wrapped the blankets protectively around them and lay down to the deepest sleep he had experienced in years.

Sleep was longer in seeking Sam out, as she lay with her hands clenched around the material of Jack's sweater, stretching it taut over his back, her eyes wide and unfocused as they stared into the darkness.


End file.
